


I left (maybe this time i’ll stay)

by orphan_account



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Exy (All For The Game), Andrew Minyard Has Feelings, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Fluff, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, POV Andrew Minyard, POV Neil Josten, Scars, Slow Burn, these characters deserve all the happiness in the world
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:55:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25655506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When Neil Josten’s mother died, he stopped running. He stayed put, because what did he have to loose?Eventually, though, his father caught up to him.He didn’t die. Instead, he was taken into the Witness Protection Program, and against all odds, he made friends. Matt and Dan, Allison and Renee. They thought it was a good idea to take him to meet their other friends, the Monsters.They didn’t know Andrew and Neil had met before this, when Neil had another name and things were harder.—AU where Neil didn’t get a change to be recruited with the Foxes, because his father found him before he could.No Exy AU
Relationships: Matt Boyd/Danielle "Dan" Wilds, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 17
Kudos: 116





	1. Chapter One

Running was the only thing Nathaniel Wesninski knew.

His mother taught him to run. To pass by unseen - a ghost of the past, and nothing more. She taught him how to drop everything at a moments notice and leave without feeling too badly about it (the trick was to not get attached). 

Eventually, though, the running had to come to an end. Eventually, Nathaniel had to get tired of running from his real life demon (he could never run from the demons in his head, though).

He got tired a while before he decided to do something about it - before he _could_ do something about it, without his mother interfering. People couldn’t do much if they were dead, and Nathaniel has never been one to believe in hauntings.

(If he had, staying would be the last thing on his mind).

But this time...He didn’t have to run. What was the point of running? He never believed in a God, but if there was one, God knew that Nathaniel couldn’t outrun his father forever.

His mum didn’t manage it. She was six feet under now. 

So, he created another name for himself, because he could - Neil Josten. He left Nathaniel Wesninski behind, on a beach in California with the bones of his mother.

It had been at once the best and worst decision he had made.

———

He hadn’t made any friends as Neil Josten, not until two years later (but two years later didn’t matter right now).

Of course he didn’t; while he didn’t want to keep running, he also didn’t have a death wish. He couldn’t trust anyone he could be potential friends with - anyone could be working for his father, anyone could be waiting to sell him out at the first chance they got.

That lesson he learned from his mother, too, and all too well. That lesson had been permanently engraved in his brain.

Stupidly, he had decided to join the Exy team. How could he not, when he saw the court? When he dreamed of playing again? It went against everything his mother asked of him, but so did not running. He tried out, and he had been accepted.

He had been given a different position - a striker, not a backliner. But that was fine - he worked with that. 

People tried to befriend him, though that was rare - he still blended in with the crowds. He still wore his brown eye contacts, still kept his hair dyed brown. (The auburn hair and ice-blue eyes he inherited from his father were too noticable, too recognisable.) (He refused to admit, even to himself, that there was another reason for the disguise.) 

Whoever got it in their brain that Neil Josten could be befriended soon gave up. Maybe it was the constant silence Neil gave them. Maybe it was the cold stares, or the awkward answers he rarely gave out. Perhaps it was the reluctance to talk about his past.

(He’d only done that with one person, and it hadn’t been the whole story - just the barest scrape of the truth, with a few more lies to make it somewhat believable.)

Whatever it was that made people give up on befriending him, it hadn’t been enough to save him the day his father finally caught him.

(It had taken a year. That was longer than Neil expected to live.)

Neil Josten knew he was screwed when he saw Romero in a small crowd. Romero Malcolm had been one of Nathan Wesninki’s most trusted employees; his sister, Lola was too.

Lola had to be the worst of them both. She was ruthless, uncaring. She took pleasure from inflicting pain with the knives she kept specially, the knives she’d tried to teach Nathaniel with when he was just a kid.

(They were also the same knives she had cut Nathaniel up with when he failed her.)

Neil Josten knew he had to run when Romero turned and stared at him through the crowd, a manic grin on his face.

He ran. His feet pounded on the concrete beneath him, his heart hammering in his chest. He knew he was attracting attention - nobody ran at the pace he was going unless it was from something - but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

His father had already found him. What more did he have to loose?

He didn’t have to pack when he reached the house he was squatting in. Another habit he had learned from his mum - trust no one, and be prepared to leave without warning. 

He knew he was doomed when there was a laugh from the doorway of the bedroom he claimed as his own for now. 

Lola stood in the doorway, red-painted lips twisting in a grin that looked all-too pleased to see him. “Hello, Junior,” she had greeted, as if he was the one who broke in.

(He was, but that hardly mattered then.)

He didn’t get a chance to reply when something hit him on the head, and he was out cold.

————

He almost died that day. It had been a miracle he hadn’t (he usually wasn’t one to believe in miracles, but what other explanation could there be for his uncle’s sudden appearence?)

He’d woken up in the trunk of a car, head pounding. His wrists were cuffed behind his back, the unforgiving metal digging into his skin. 

Lola was there, too. There was enough light in the trunk so he could see clearly, and she had been watching him, flipping one of her knives idly. He’d watched it, watch the metal glint in the faintest light, knowing what that knife had done in her hands.

She had been waiting for him to come around, because she grinned at him. “Good morning, sleeping beauty. Now the fun can really begin.”

(‘Fun’ was Lola’s word for cutting his skin and burning his face. ‘Fun’ was Lola’s word for torture.)

It had lasted hours. At least, he thought so. They had to be heading to Baltimore, to his father, and he knew that was hours away. But he didn’t have a clue as to how long he was out, how long Lola had been watching him.

It didn’t matter, in the end. They asked their questions - “Where is Mary?” - and he gave his answers in the form of pleas - “She’s dead, she’s dead, please, she’s dead.”

He thought Lola would kill him before his father got the chance. A stupid thought - Nathan wouldn’t let anyone but himself kill his son, and Lola would never defy Nathan.

Nathaniel (for he wasn’t Neil now - Neil didn’t deserve the pain that came with Nathaniel) was taken to his father’s basement. The memories of that place were terrible. Blood on the walls, men screaming and begging for freedom. His father’s clever, Lola’s knives, his own scars.

He’d tried to make a break for it, but he wasn’t fast enough. (That’s just how it worked; you can run for a lifetime, but fate catches up eventually. How fitting it was, to be killed by the person he ran from. A perfect circle.)

When his father stood in front of him, clever in hand and talking about what he would like to do to Nathaniel, he screwed his eyes shut and waited for the first blow.

(There was always more after the first.)

Except the first blow never came. 

Shots rang out, Lola shouted. 

Nathaniel opened his eyes in time to watch as Nathan Wesninski was shot. 

Nathaniel didn’t die that day. Nathan did instead.

———

Uncle Stuart had killed him. 

Nathaniel spent the first few days unbelieving that - it didn’t matter if he saw it with his own eyes. He had believed his father was immortal, or something similar. He had never been caught, so what other explanation was there?

He wasn’t immortal, though. He had died, just like any man. 

The FBI had questions for him. Of course they did. They asked Nathaniel about his father, about the people who worked for him. He had been more than willing to answer. They asked about Mary, they asked about his life on the run. 

He answered everything.

They gave him two options - live as Nathaniel, and keep running. His father was dead, but his people weren’t.

Or, he could make Neil Josten a real person, and enter the Witness Protection Program.

He didn’t know if the FBI had the resources to save him if his fathers people came running (just like he didn’t know if they had the resources to capture them).

But to be Neil Josten again, to leave Nathaniel behind? 

It had been too good to be true.

He chose the second option, and became Neil Josten once more.

———

A year later, and Neil Josten was still a real person. The FBI had given him a place to stay in Columbia, not too far from a club named Eden’s Twilight. 

A year later, and Neil Josten was still, remarkably, alive. Nathan’s people hadn’t caught up to him, and it was more than he could’ve asked for.

Somehow, in some strange turn of events, he managed to make friends. Two friends, actually - a guy named Matt, and his girlfriend Dan. 

They had met at the gym. Matt had been a trainer there, and a good one. For some reason, he’d taken to talking with Neil (maybe it was the lack of disguise; he didn’t want to hide anymore, though he still couldn’t look at himself in the mirror).

This time, Matt didn’t give up, even despite Neil’s obvious reluctance to become friends. And somehow, they had become friends. Matt introduced him to Dan, and Neil found he didn’t want to stop being friends with either of them. 

They were great people, and they cared. They didn’t ask about his past or where he came from, and he was glad for that. They didn’t ask any questions he would be uncomfortable asking, and that was perfect.

Matt and Dan introduced him to two other people - Allison and Renee. Allison was all sharp edges and drama, with her perfect blonde curls and six-inch heels. Renee was gentler; kind smiles and hair dyed pastel colours at the tips, a cross around her neck and a calming voice.

Allison and Renee were polar opposites, but Neil thought maybe that was what made them such great friends.

He had a place where he belonged, finally. He didn’t have to run from the demons that haunted every one of his steps (just the metaphorical demons that lived in his head, instead. Dan and Matt were more than willing to help, even if they didn’t completely understand.)

(He didn’t think his past would catch up with him yet again in the form of a very angry blond midget, but that happened.)

———

Allison tried her best to expand his social horizons. “You literally have four friends,” she’d explain to him with a roll of her eyes, as if that was reason enough and warranted her constantly setting him up with new people.

”So?” Neil asked every time. He had four friends. Why did he need more?

Each time, Allison would sigh and say, “Oh, you poor baby.” And, somehow, that would be the end of their conversation.

Neil thought she’d give up on having him make friends, but he should’ve known better.

One day, Allison arrived at his house with Dan, Matt and Renee in tow. Allison held two plastic bags in her hands, and she shoved them into his hands.

”Get dressed,” she told him. “We’re going out.”

Only then did Neil notice how dressed up she was - a blood red minidress that hugged her curves tightly, her face covered in dark makeup. He looked at the bags, confused. “Where are we going?”

He got a glare for an answer, and knew he wouldn’t be getting any other answer until she did what she said, so he went upstairs to change.

Even though he wasn’t running anymore, even though he had some semblance of safety, he still wore clothes he knew wouldn’t be memorable. Old t-shirts that were a size or two too big, so his scars were firmly hidden. Worn-down jeans that didn’t fit too tightly. 

Allison had also attempted to expand his wardrobe, but had usually failed. 

Until now, apparently. She’d given him a tight shirt that clung too tightly to his chest - even though his scars were covered, he still felt vulnerable - and a pair of black ripped jeans. He didn’t see the point in ripped jeans, but he didn’t seem to have a choice in the matter.

When he went downstairs, a little uncomfortable, Allison looked pleased with her handy work, and Matt and Dan looked shocked to see him. Renee simply gave him a small smile.

”Damn, Neil,” Dan whistled. “You should dress up more often.”

Neil shuffled on his feet, nodded his thanks. “Where are we going?”

”Eden’s Twilight.” Allison grinned at him. “You’re going to meet the Monsters.”

———

The Monsters were a group of people who went to the same University as Allison, Dan, Matt and Renee. They went to Eden’s Twilight every Friday, and stayed in Columbia for a few days in the house Nicky had bought.

The others told him all about them on the way there. Two twin brothers, their cousin, Nicky and Kevin Day made up their group.

Nicky was the nicest of them, according to Matt. Matt and Nicky were good friends - that was how they received the invitation to Eden’s. 

Renee happened to be close friends with one of the twins, the one they named the group after - the Monster. 

No one would tell him why the twin was named that, but Neil didn’t mind. He had dealt with enough monsters in his time.

Eden’s Twilight was loud, bright and crowded - all things that Neil hated. He marked every exit as soon as he walked inside, another habit from his time running (you never knew when someone was to step out of the shadows, when you needed to go, to get out).

But he didn’t entirely hate it. His friends were there, so it wasn’t too bad. And no one would notice him in a crowd so big.

Matt led the way to a table, with two people sat there, drinking and making idle conversation. The Monsters, Neil assumed - only half of their group.

There was a guy holding a bottle of whisky, with dark hair and a chess piece tattooed on his face. It probably symbolised something to him, but to Neil it meant nothing (he knew nothing about chess). 

Another guy sat next to him, with darker skin and darker hair and a grin that lit up his face. The two were engaged in conversation, though he immediately noticed Matt approaching and grinned at them.

”Matt! You made it!” He scanned their group, his eyes widening when they landed on Neil. “Ooh, who’s your friend? I’m Nicky.”

”Neil.” 

Nicky - which meant the guy with the tattooed cheek had to be Kevin - grinned at him. “Nice to meet you, Neil! Matt, why didn’t you tell me he was cute?”

Matt rolled his eyes. “I hadn’t thought it mattered.”

Nicky gasped, looked offended. “It always matters, Matt!”

”Stop being annoying,” an eerily familiar voice spoke behind them, and Neil turned around.

He regretted a few of his life decisions in that moment. 

The twins had been missing from the table, and they stood in front of them now. They were instantly recognisable - short, blond hair, hazel eyes. One twin wore pure black clothes, wristbands to his wrists and elbows, a bored expression on his face. 

Andrew, Neil recognised. Hopefully, Andrew didn’t recognise him.

Of course, he wasn’t so lucky. Once, Andrew had told him that he never forgot a face. He’d called it a curse - Neil (Chris, his name had been Chris, then) called it a blessing.

Neil noticed as soon as Andrew recognised him, even if his expression didn’t change. Neil had always been a master at reading Andrew (the trick was his eyes. He could control his face, but not them).

“I’m not annoying,” Nicky huffed, oblivious to the tension that arose between Neil and Andrew. “Andrew, Aaron, have you met Neil?”

Andrew stared at him, expressionless. “Yes.”

Running wasn’t the only thing Neil Josten knew, but it was a habit he fell back on occasionally.

He didn’t run, but his body wished he would. (Nobody was supposed to remember him - what a cruel twist it was that Andrew did). Adrenaline ran through his veins, but he ignored it. 

He wouldn’t run again.

”What?” Matt asked, confused. “Did I miss something?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter! Yay! 
> 
> Andrew's POV is challenging to do, and I feel like maybe he's a bit OOC? Regardless, I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's arranged in the same way as Neil's POV, though I tried to make the writing styles a little different when it comes to the two different POV's. 
> 
> Whenever the chapter says ' _Before_ ', the next part of writing refers to Neil and Andrew's past, and it will be fully revealed in later chapters. 
> 
> Enjoy!!

Those eyes. Those damn eyes.

Ice blue, with a spark of fire behind them. They were eyes that told you lies, eyes that refused to give away secrets.

Andrew remembered those eyes. With his memory, he remembered everything (though Chris’ hair had been brown, not the colour of autumn. Definitely not the colour of flames.)

There had been no scars and burns on his face, on his hands, either. That was interesting - what had happened to him since they had last seen each other?

He didn’t care, and he didn’t ask.

It was Chris, though. Andrew remembered faces, and those eyes weren’t something you could forget.

But Nicky had called him Neil. He must be Matt’s friend, the one he wanted to invite this time - Neil Josten. 

Nicky frowned and looked between them. “You’ve met before?” he asked, even though Andrew had already confirmed that. “How is that even possible?”

Andrew stared at Neil, face carefully blank, daring him to say something. _Go on,_ he urged. _Tell them how you befriended me, how you promised to stay. Tell them how you left._

Neil didn’t meet his eyes, and Andrew knew he wouldn’t tell them. “It’s a long story.”

Nicky’s frown deepened, and he looked to Andrew for clarification.

Andrew didn’t give it him, instead turning his blank stare on his cousin. 

That was enough for Nicky to drop the topic. “Did you get the drinks?” 

This was aimed at Aaron, Andrew’s twin, who was stood next to them looking throughly annoyed to be standing there with a tray of drinks. Aaron had offered to help Andrew get their drinks, even though he certainly hadn’t asked and definitely didn’t need his help.

“Obviously,” Aaron rolled his eyes, lifting the tray of drinks an inch higher.

“Wonderful.” Nicky grinned, and suddenly it was no longer awkward, like everyone had forgotten about Neil and Andrew.

That was fine by him, anyway.

He sat apart from the others as they started drinking. Despite being there for only an hour, Kevin had gone through five drinks already, so he was rather wasted.

Neil didn’t participate in much conversation, and he didn’t drink, either. The girls tried to get him involved in their conversation, and succeeded slightly. Matt and Nicky dominated most of the conversation , though Allison did take the time to insult people’s fashion choices.

Speaking of fashion choices, Andrew couldn’t remember Chris ever looking like that. He was aware enough to admit that he found Neil attractive - anybody with eyes would, actually.

Eventually, Neil sat next to Andrew, nursing his own glass of soda. Andrew didn’t bother with him, but he felt Neil’s stare.

He’d always known when Chris had stared. Perhaps there weren’t too many differences between Chris and Neil - not that he cared.

He didn’t care.

He noticed Nicky send them a few curious looks, and glared at him. What happened with Neil was none of his business. 

His cousin ended up leaving them to their silence.

Neil, though, broke their silence. “Andrew.”

Because he could, Andrew looked at him and said, “Neil. Or should I call you Chris?”

Neil flinched slightly. Most people wouldn’t have noticed, but Andrew was too observant for his own good. “Neil. It’s Neil.”

“Is that your real name?” 

He didn’t care. _I don’t care._

“It is now.”

He didn’t know what that meant. “Chris never existed.” It wasn’t a question.

“No.” Neil looked into his glass of soda. He looked as if he was contemplating something. “I should explain.”

“Yes,” Andrew agreed. _I don’t care._ “You don’t owe me anything.”

———

_Before_

Three years ago, Andrew Minyard met a boy named Chris. He didn’t have a last name, at least not one Andrew knew.

Maybe that should’ve been a clear indication, but that didn’t dawn on him then.

Chris had been normal. At least, he thought so. 

Andrew had been Andrew. That was explanation enough.

Somehow, he had befriended Chris at school. 

Chris had been the quiet type. He didn’t speak out much, he kept his head down and he didn’t speak to anybody. He wore baggy clothes, his brown hair fell into his eyes, and he didn’t draw attention to himself.

But, somehow, he was _interesting._ Andrew rarely called anyone or anything interesting, but he knew he had been right when he caught Chris mouthing off to somebody, a bully who thought he was better than everyone else.

Chris had a smart mouth, that much was obvious, and he burned with a fire Andrew hadn’t seen before.

Clearly, though, Chris was also an idiot - he didn’t stop talking, even when the asshole in front of him clenched his fists and got ready to throw a punch.

To this day, Andrew couldn’t explain why he did it. But when he saw the asshole was about to throw the first punch, he interfered. He held a knife to the asshole’s stomach, hard enough to draw the smallest bit of blood. 

He stared at the asshole, watched as his eyes widened with panic with his famous blank expression. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he warned.

He knew his lack of expression and emotions only made the threat worse.

The asshole nodded frantically. _All talk and no bite,_ Andrew thought to himself. Being held at knife point tended to do that.

“Touch him again, and I’ll do worse than this.” He pressed the knife harder, and the asshole whimpered. “Glad we’ve come to an understanding.”

He removed the knife, sheathed it in his armbands that he never removed.

The asshole scurried away, and Andrew turned to Chris, who was looking at him, shocked.

“Why did you do that?” Chris asked him.

Andrew didn’t actually know, so he said, “I’m Andrew.”

“Chris.” 

He’d known that, but he didn’t tell that to Chris. “You should loose the contacts. Brown is boring.” _And you’re nothing if not interesting._

———

Andrew led Neil outside, when Neil decided he wanted to talk to him about something important. Andrew knew he shouldn’t, but the self-destructive streak in him had always won in the end. They slipped away unnoticed - the others were too busy and involved in their own conversations to notice them leave.

And that was more than okay. Andrew couldn’t be bothered with his cousin’s constant questions, especially when they would be questions he didn’t want to answer.

Outside of Eden’s Twilight was cold, as it usually was this far in autumn. Andrew didn’t show whether he was bothered by it, but he knew Neil was based on his shiver and the way he wrapped his arms around himself.

Andrew pulled out a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one. “What am I doing here, Josten?”

“I wanted to explain.” Neil shuffled on his feet - Andrew knew from their time together that that little action meant he was nervous.

Another thing he wasn’t going to tell anyone. 

Andrew glared at him. “I told you. You don’t owe me anything.”

“I do.” Neil met his gaze, ice blue eyes to Andrew’s own hazel. Andrew hated those eyes. “I disappeared. I broke our promise.”

He had. Andrew had very strict rules about breaking promises two years ago. He still did. 

He rolled his eyes, waved a hand. “Explain away. The truth, preferably.”

“My father had caught up to us,” Neil told him. “My mum saw him. His people. She made us run again. I hadn’t wanted to leave, but I hadn’t had a choice. Staying would've put you in danger.”

When Chris had left, Andrew had thought the worst. He’d been kidnapped. He was dead in a ditch somewhere. He was in the hospital. 

But when it had become clear that nothing had happened, that Chris had simply vanished overnight, Andrew made different assumptions.

Chris had been an hallucination, created by Andrew because he had been lonely. Chris had never existed - Andrew had just made someone up.

“You left anyway.” Andrew took a drag of his cigarette, the familiar smoke filling his lungs. “You’d promised to stay. And I had promised to protect you.”

Andrew Minyard didn’t make promises for the sake of it. He had wanted to protect Chris, because he’d wanted Chris to stay.

This time, Neil shook his head. “I didn’t. Chris did. He never existed.”

Andrew had been right about that. Chris had never existed. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” 

”I won’t break anything between us again.” But now, the eyes that lie screamed only of honesty. Andrew wanted to believe it, but, like Neil, it didn’t seem real. 

”Why would there be anything else between us again, Josten?” _Foolish._ He shouldn’t have asked. He knew he wanted something when he had seen Chris with auburn hair and scars on his hands, when he saw Neil.

“Because we never got to finish what we started.”

———

_Before_

They had started something Andrew hadn’t thought would be possible.

They had become closer, and that was impossible enough. He had never been close to anyone, not willingly. And even then, that wasn’t the closeness he was talking about with Chris.

Chris did take Andrew’s comment about the contacts to heart and took them out. Andrew had been right - brown was too boring. The brown contacts had hid the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. Why anybody would want to hide that, he didn’t know.

They talked, a lot. Andrew rarely said anything unless it actually mattered. He had never been one for small talk.

They had struck up a kind of game. It wasn’t one, but they treated it as such. They traded truths - Chris told him about how his mum made him run away from his dangerous father’s boss, who wanted him dead. Chris told them how he didn’t expect to stay too long.

In return, Andrew told him about his life as a foster kid, though he didn’t go into too many details. He told Chris he’d taught himself to fight. He didn’t explain why.

Chris had taken it all in stride. He never judged Andrew for anything he said, and Andrew did the same.

They began to spend a lot of time together. Andrew said he hated it, but he didn’t. Chris never believed him, and just smirked idly at him whenever he said it.

Andrew ended up making Chris a promise. “Promise me you’ll stay,” he said. “I can protect you.”

Chris had smiled sadly, but he whispered, “I promise.”

Andrew had believed him, against his better judgement. Perhaps it had been the self-destructive streak in him.

———

“Who said I want to finish what we started?” Andrew challenged. _I don't want anything._

Neil smirked at him, and it was at once all too familiar yet different. “No one. But, if you do, you know where to find me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided to post once every week, every Friday or Saturday. Yay! (If I don't keep up with that, feel free to shout at me, unless I give y'all a reason for my absence beforehand.)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> This is my first AFTG fic, and Andriel owns my heart, so...Yeah, I created this. Chapters will differentiate between Neil and Andrew’s POV. The rating may change.
> 
> Anyway this’ll be up on my Tumblr blog, @iamperfectlyfuckingcivil, in the next week.
> 
> Enjoy!! 💜💜


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